


What We Become

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur always thought there would be time to figure out a way to work with Ariadne and still have a romantic relationship with her. Now he's out of time.</p><p> </p><p>For the prompt <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/17947.html?thread=39014427#t39014427">A/A non-established relationship but they're clearly attracted to each other. But after a drunken night out, Ariadne wakes up married...to Eames.</a> Written for the "upset at a higher being" box on my <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/">hc_bingo</a> card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Become

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kore_rising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kore_rising/gifts), [elliesmeow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=elliesmeow).



What we love determines what we seek, what we seek determines what we think and do, what we think and do determines what we become.  
\- Uchtdorff

 

In the wake of a successful job, Eames suggested meeting up for drinks. "It isn't safe," Arthur protested, as he usually did.

Eames rolled his eyes and looked from Arthur's prim businesslike appearance to Ariadne's. She was tidying up the area they were leaving behind, though the three of them hadn't touched anything of import. "And lose the chance to spend a few more hours with our luscious little architect? I'm disappointed in you."

"Eames..."

"It's _Vegas,_ Arthur. What was the saying? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?" he teased, mouth curving into a smile.

Arthur looked back at Ariadne, the handle of the PASIV caught in a white knuckled grip. She straightened, and his eyes snapped from the curve of her hip and rear to her eyes. He was starting to smile at her, but caught himself once Eames chuckled. Ariadne looked at them, eyebrow arched in question. "One drink couldn't hurt."

Ariadne grinned at him, eyes sparkling at the thought of spending more time with Arthur. "I'd love to."

"I know just the place to celebrate, then," Eames declared with a playful grin.

Looking back, Arthur should have nixed the idea right there and then. One drink turned quickly into two. Then three, then five, then somewhere closer in the vicinity of ten before they went to a different bar. There was another two stops after that, until the three of them all crashed in Arthur's hotel room because they couldn't remember where their own rooms were in different hotels.

Arthur groaned as light stabbed his eyes the following morning. He couldn't recall how many drinks he'd had, but apparently it was much more than his usual limit. He felt sick, his head was pounding and he wanted to curl up in a corner and die. There was a snore from off to the side, and by its masculine tone he guessed it was Eames. Moving slowly, Arthur pulled himself to the edge of his bed. Somehow he had wound up sprawled across the bed, and Ariadne and Eames were both on the floor. He smiled at her sleeping form, messy curls falling every which way. The business casual look from yesterday had given up the ghost. He could see the outline of her bra against the fabric of her blouse, but he was really tracking the curve of her cheek and the way her lashes brushed against her cheeks. God, if he could just get over his concern about personal relationships fucking up the work relationships, he would have taken her to dinner or asked for a date long ago. Instead, he fished out his phone and took a few pictures of her.

This was pathetic. Safer for everyone involved, but no less pathetic.

He managed to stumble to the bathroom without waking either person sprawled across the floor. He splashed water on his face and tried to rinse out the taste of ick from his mouth, and he looked at his bleary eyed reflection in the mirror. It wasn't his best look, to be certain, but he could easily fix that with a shower and change. Arthur quickly rifled through his luggage for a change of clothes, making sure to stay quiet.

That thought quickly flew out of the window as soon as he saw the scattering of rice on the table, brochures from one of the many wedding chapels in the area and the documentation that said Eames and Ariadne were married. True, it was using their current aliases and not their actual (or in Eames' case, his most current) names, but they were _married._

The surprised and dismayed cry he made woke Eames. "Bwuh?" he muttered, raising his head. Ariadne didn't even stir, her breathing just as deep and even as before. "Someone coming to kill us?" Eames managed to ask as he rubbed at his face. He looked up at Arthur's thunderous look and moved to sit up. "Arthur?"

"You. Married. Ariadne."

Eames merely looked at Arthur, then down at the sleeping Ariadne on the floor beside him. "Oh. That. Well." He flashed Arthur a charming and roguish smile. "It still isn't legal for the same sex to get married in this state, right?"

"This isn't funny, Eames!" Arthur shouted.

Ariadne twitched, bringing her hand up to her face with a groan. Neither man really noticed.

"You didn't exactly make any moves, you realize. She was well within her rights to go for a better option," Eames drawled. He grinned and leaned back on his hands, legs sprawled across the floor. He was instantly more alert; winding up Arthur was always a fun pastime. "So our darling Ariadne made an honest man out of me. How delightfully unexpected."

Arthur resisted the urge to punch Eames in the mouth, but only just. He chalked up the crack in his usual demeanor to his hangover. Which was _also_ Eames' fault, truth be told.

There was a reason why Arthur didn't work with Eames often.

He just laughed, the bastard, and deliberately reached out with one hand to touch Ariadne's back. He ran his large hand down the curve of her spine possessively, smirking at Arthur. "We're married," he said cheerfully in the face of Arthur's glower. "There wasn't much of a wedding night, but I'm sure we can make up for lost time. Perhaps we'll even let you watch."

Making an inarticulate sound of rage, Arthur glowered at Eames. "Get out of my room and get back to your own."

"I should be a gentleman and wait for my bride to wake up. I think I did carry her over the threshold, at least." Eames laughed and tucked a lock of hair behind Ariadne's ear. "She's such a precious little thing, isn't she?"

"Eames..." Arthur began in a warning tone.

The forger merely laughed. "You take things entirely too seriously, Arthur. At that rate, you'll never really live." He stretched languidly. "She and I don't have anything to change into, so we'd best get to our hotel rooms. Shall we meet up for breakfast?"

Arthur had already seen the damage of "meeting up" with Eames, but didn't want to leave Ariadne alone with Eames. Knowing him, he would push until Ariadne capitulated and agreed to a date of some kind.

He refused to admit he was jealous, even if he absolutely was.

"You're too loud," Ariadne grumbled, hand still over her face. "Sleeping. Need more sleep."

"Ah, the dulcet tones of our beloved," Eames drawled, grinning at Arthur's glower.

It was going to be a long morning.

***

Ariadne opted to stay in her rumpled clothes and have breakfast in Arthur's hotel restaurant before trying to get back to her own by cab. Eames of course then opted to stay by her side, and the only thing that made that even remotely worthwhile was the annoyed look that she shot him when he wasn't looking. Arthur smiled then, and offered to buy her breakfast. Eames was on his own, but all he wanted was a cup of coffee and a slice of buttered toast anyway.

It took several tries to get Ariadne to realize that her marriage to Eames was not a practical joke that the forger was playing on her. "But we can't be married!" she cried in horror, eyes wide as it all sank in. She looked from Eames to Arthur, her mouth opening and closing. For all that she had already seen and done in dream share, this was the part that she had trouble grasping.

"Whyever not?" Eames drawled, sipping at his coffee. Between the three of them, he seemed the most unaffected by a hangover.

Ariadne sputtered as Arthur merely glowered at Eames. "It's absurd." She looked at Arthur with an almost apologetic expression. "I wouldn't..."

"Keep talking like that, and you'll break my heart, darling," Eames replied with a laugh.

Arthur was fuming. He had never been the terribly religious sort growing up, but now he couldn't help but wonder if this was his penance for becoming a criminal. The one thing he wanted now was to find whatever God was responsible for this debacle and force Him to correct it. He was _furious,_ and couldn't remember ever being this angry before.

"At least it isn't a real wedding," Arthur said, trying to keep his voice even for Ariadne's benefit. He patted her hand in what was meant to be a supportive gesture, and she turned her hand over to grasp his firmly. His heart might have skipped a beat in response to the simple gesture.

"Of course it was!" Eames chortled. "That was rather the point at the time. After all, this country frowns upon marriages between three people." He smiled magnanimously as Ariadne choked on her drink. "I think it would work well. Someone needs to draw out our stick in the mud, yes?"

"Shut up, Mr. Eames," Arthur intoned, glaring at him.

"Ariadne Eames sounds... Distinguished, I'd say," Eames continued as if he hadn't spoken. She was looking at him helplessly, her free hand caught in her pocket and no doubt grasping her totem to be sure this was reality. "Much better than Araidne... Arthur, what last name are you going by, these days?"

"I'm going to hurt you slowly for this," Arthur droned, barely keeping his temper in check.

"And you're lucky I'm not the jealous type," Eames commented after a swallow of his coffee, pointing to their clasped hands with his coffee cup. "Otherwise I might take offense to the way you're touching my wife."

"I'm entirely too sober for this conversation," Ariadne commented, looking between the two men sitting with her as if she had never met them before.

"Quite possibly," Eames said cheerfully. "We can fix that, of course."

"Don't you dare," Arthur interrupted. "You've done quite enough damage, don't you think?"

Eames merely lofted an eyebrow at him and signaled for his check. "I have no idea what you're on about, Arthur. I happened to have been blessed enough to get Ariadne to consent to becoming my bride." He smiled widely. "A bit of luck, that." He dropped enough money to cover his coffee and toast on the table. "Or perhaps I'm the one that needed it more, hm? Don't women usually like the rakish bad boy types and want to reform them?" He chuckled at Ariadne's startled expression. "Is there anything you'd like to change about me, darling?"

"About a thousand things," she replied without thinking, just making him laugh harder. "Don't you take _anything_ seriously?" she asked, brows furrowing.

"Not if we're not on a job. Best that you learn that since we're married now." He laughed at her disconcerted expression. "Oh, come now, Ariadne. I'm sure it wouldn't be all that terrible to be married to me. Not a lot of responsibility for me, after all. Think of me rather like a housecat. I'd even purr for you if you like."

She flushed scarlet, which only made him laugh again. "Eames!" she choked out.

"You are quite the delight, my dear," Eames told her, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I'll start heading out and I'll send you contact information in a bit. After all, we need to figure out sleeping arrangements and where we're going to be living and the like."

Arthur wondered if anyone would fault him for shooting Eames in the middle of breakfast for these comments. Probably not.

"This is horrible. I'm so sorry," Arthur told Ariadne after Eames left.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one that got so drunk last night I don't remember what I did and I'm still hung over right now."

Her hand still caught in his, Arthur curled his fingers to touch the underside of her wrist. "Are you all right, though? With his teasing? I'll do something about that so you wouldn't have to ever deal with that again. I don't want you leaving dream share."

Her golden eyes stared up at him with the most clarity they'd had all morning. She seemed to be boring into his soul, and for a moment Arthur wondered what she saw there. Did she see how much he cared for her? How much he regretted not simply asking her to dinner even the night before? Could he have avoided all this if he had done that? Or did God like making his life utterly miserable?

"I'm not going to leave," Ariadne said softly, shifting slightly in her seat to face him more fully. Her hand came down over his, and she licked her lips. Arthur's eyes tracked the movement, his heart caught in his throat. "I know he's just having fun at our expense and he doesn't really mean it. I mean, that's how he has fun on a job, so why not after? The rest of the time he's running for his life or hiding from authorities." She gave Arthur a sad smile. "You cope differently than he does, and you don't have to make fun of me to do it."

"He shouldn't have done that..."

Ariadne laughed. "He was drunk and out of his mind, too. So he probably thought it was a good idea at the time. But you know, listening to him talk about the whole thing... It doesn't feel real at all. For a moment, I felt almost like I was more of an idea of a real person that he had, than a real person at all. If that makes sense." She flashed him an adorably amused smile. "I am still hung over, after all. I'm trying to have a deep conversation while my head is pounding."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh, and somehow their mouths met in a tender and slow kiss, something more real and soul searing than the simple press of lips he had stolen during the Fischer job. It was like a jolt through him, and Arthur knew that he couldn't simply let Eames joke his way into her heart. If he was going to have a relationship with Ariadne, he was going to have to fight for it.

And if God had something to say about that, screw it. Arthur would happily go to hell instead.

***

"You really need to leave Arthur alone," Ariadne told Eames the next time she saw him. She even poked at his chest. They were planning to fly back to Paris soon, and Ariadne's flight was the first to leave the airport. "I don't know what you have against him, but you need to stop it, whatever it is. You're supposed to be good at reading people."

Eames laughed at her disgruntled expression. "Of course I am, my darling wife," he said with a cheerful smile.

"You know, that gets less and less funny the more times you say it," she groused. All she could imagine was Arthur's sour face and she wanted to sigh and wrap her arms around him.

Instead, Eames slung an arm around her shoulders. At least he wasn't being as insulting as he had been earlier that morning. "Well, I'm trying to make the best of a potentially very awkward situation, Ariadne. Have you thought about what is it that you'd like in a husband? Is that anything you've ever considered before?"

Ariadne frowned. "You mean like a list of things?"

"Precisely."

"No, not really. I mean, between working jobs and completing my degree, I never really had time to think about anything, let alone marriage." Though there was that entire flight back from LA to Paris after the Fischer job where she daydreamed about what dating Arthur might be like...

"You have that crafty look in your eye," Eames said with a smile. "Go on, tell me."

Arthur arrived at the airport in time to see Eames' arm around Ariadne's shoulders, his head bent down next to hers. She was talking about little things she liked to do when going out and what her usual routine at home was like. Arthur could almost see Eames making mental notes of things to do, and whatever calm he had achieved after breakfast evaporated in an instant.

"I suppose this would be a very handy thing to have happen regarding these identities," Eames was saying as Arthur approached. "It's not always easy to get separate flights out of a location, so this would give us a very opportune excuse to fly in and out of places together." He looked up with a playful grin. "Ah, Arthur. Perhaps you can help us? You know the ins and outs of all the minutiae regarding paperwork around marriage. Name changes for Mrs. Eames here..." He caught himself at Ariadne's elbow to the ribs. "Yes, sorry. Mrs. Hitchcock here. We'll need to get all that sorted. You know, name change documents, wills, next of kin, contact in case of emergency, all of those things. It gets complicated."

Arthur knew very well that Eames was more than capable of forging every document that he might need to keep up the farce of being married. What bothered him was that Ariadne seemed to be going along with it when she very clearly was attracted to him and not to Eames.

The world was out to get him. _Eames_ was out to get him, and somehow conspired with the entire goddamn universe and every higher being of every pantheon in creation to make sure that Arthur suffered. He still didn't understand exactly why, since the two had never been enemies before. They just had completely different work ethics.

"Well, I'm off," Eames said with an insouciant grin. "I will see you soon enough, my dearly beloved," he told Ariadne, touching her shoulder. "Meet you at the office."

As far as Arthur was concerned, Eames couldn't leave fast enough.

Ariadne smiled up at Arthur as he sat down beside her. "My flight leaves in an hour. Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

Arthur couldn't help but grasp her hand. "Are you sure you should be encouraging Eames to continue with this sick joke that way?"

"He has a point about the cover identity. He actually wasn't so bad once we got to actually talking instead of him simply teasing all the time."

Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "This wasn't even your idea..."

"I'm flexible," Ariadne said with a shrug. He missed the warmth of her hand in his as she pulled it out of his grasp. "We'll make it work, I'm sure. I just have to keep him in line," she replied with an almost impish grin. "Trust me."

The problem was, Ariadne was the only one in this situation that he _did_ trust.

***

As soon as Arthur got back to Paris, he headed straight to the rooms he had rented near the office suite they were using as their base of operations. When the lease on the warehouse they had used for the Fischer job ran out, Arthur had simply gotten an office suite nearby. It had never occurred to him to move on to a different city. Yusuf had gone back to his dreamers in Mombasa, Ariadne had her degree to finish and he was at loose ends with Cobb staying in LA to be a father to his children. Somehow he had just stayed on in Paris, working with Ariadne and a handful of extractors he had met over many years in the business. Most of them were imbeciles compared to Cobb, and somehow or other Eames was recommended for a job. Since then, the three of them had become a solid team, adding members here or there as needed for specific jobs. It had become comfortable, and Arthur told himself that adding a romance to it would only complicate matters.

Of course, now he was regretting that decision.

He reflexively turned on his computer to check his various e-mail accounts and see if there was upcoming work. He usually had feelers out so that he could be selective about the jobs that the team took. There was no point in taking unnecessary risks, after all. Arthur was astounded to see the sheer volume of mail, and that none of it was junk.

Apparently he had been sent an invitation to Eames' and Ariadne's wedding registry, and an e-mail announcement regarding the marriage had been sent out to just about everyone in the dream share business. It even included one of those stupid photographs that had been taken at the chapel in Vegas, where Arthur could tell that Ariadne was sloppy drunk and not ecstatically happy. Eames seemed rather pleased with himself and didn't look overly intoxicated at all, damn him. The message had been sent to a handful of people in the business that knew them both, such as Yusuf or Cobb. They were discreet, at least, but it was still galling to see that Eames had broadcasted _anything_ about Ariadne. Most of the e-mails he had gotten after that were condolence messages or short blurbs asking why he had never gone after Ariadne when everyone in the business had been sure that he had a thing for her and the two of them would eventually hook up.

It was like being back in high school, and he had _hated_ high school. He wanted to look up at the sky and ask what he had done that was so horrible to deserve _this._

What was even worse was the message from Cobb. It was long and rambling, about how he had been sure that Ariadne had been closer to him since the Fischer job due to the training. "You must have missed you opportunity and she fell for someone else. But if it's the real thing, she'll find her way back to you. I can't even tell you how many times Mal and I argued or fought, broke up and got back together. Marriage for some people isn't a sacred institution anymore. I'm sure if you tried to let Ariadne know how you feel, things can still work out for you."

"Goddammit, Dom, I'm not some idiot schoolgirl!" Arthur snapped at his screen. The only thing that would have felt more satisfying would be to smack Eames around, and that would have to wait until they were all in the office again.

Well, that gave him something to dream about.

***

"Here. I didn't get any response from you, but I thought perhaps you were knackered from the flight and the hangover," Eames said without preamble, handing Arthur a print out with some parts of it highlighted.

"What the hell is this?"

"Our registry, of course," Eames replied in an affronted tone. "Just because we did it up quick in Vegas doesn't mean we shouldn't do it up proper."

"That was not a real wedding," Arthur snapped.

"It was real enough, wasn't it? Those are perfectly valid identities." Eames went over to Ariadne's desk, and Arthur suddenly noticed the bouquet of red roses and the spray of baby's breath in it. "Only the best for my darling bride," he said with a goofy grin on his face.

It only grew worse after she actually arrived at the office. "Good morning," she called out, taking off her jacket and winter scarf. She flashed Eames a pleased smile when she saw the roses, and he took her jacket and scarf. "Oh. Thank you."

Eames also massaged her shoulders, told her about the registry and that he was looking for a large enough apartment that would give each of them a separate office to do their work in. He blithely ignored Arthur fuming at his desk. Every exclamation of disbelief at the contents of the registry – drinking glasses painted with bull designs, plates with a splatter design that would have made Jackson Pollock proud, black silk bed sheets, velour curtains and pillows, an extensive barware collection as well as engraved wall hangings with all sorts of maudlin sayings about love and devotion on them – only seemed to make Eames proud. "My favorite thing is on a different registry, actually," Eames declared once Arthur actually complained about it out loud. "My favorite gunsmith is also an armorer. He's perfectly willing to make matching Kevlar vests with our names on the backs embroidered in gold thread and decorated in crystals. Plus, I put in an order for matching weapons. Berettas, out of deference to my good lady wife's pistol," he added for Arthur's benefit.

Arthur had absolutely nothing complimentary to say about that, though he kept his mouth shut for Ariadne's sake.

She seemed amused by Eames' effusive display and thought it was some kind of a game. If this was the way she thought she was handling him, Arthur wanted to cry foul. This was doing nothing but driving him crazy.

"I've been thinking of getting a new tattoo," Eames announced after lunch. Arthur didn't have much of an appetite but Ariadne had packed away her entire salad and a bag of chips without any problem whatsoever. Then again, seeing Eames hold her drink for her or fetch her napkins to wipe her mouth for her was nauseating. "A portrait tattoo," he continued when Arthur didn't rise to the bait.

"Oh?" Ariadne asked, looking up from her architectural journal. "Who of?"

"I was thinking it could be our wedding portrait." He unbuttoned his shirt and held a sheet of paper with the photo from his announcement e-mail stenciled on it over his heart. "What do you think, Arthur? Too over the top?"

Arthur stormed out of the office without even bothering to take his coat.

***

The hard part was that there was a job Arthur wanted to take part in that would absolutely require a forger. He was still going to have to deal with Eames. Ariadne seemed to enjoy his over the top affectionate behavior, and stopped admonishing him for calling her his lady wife. She was acting as if it was one big joke, even if Arthur could see that Eames meant everything he was saying. He complimented everything and was more considerate of her needs than Eames had been toward _anything_ in the entire time that Arthur had known and worked with him. It was almost a race to compliment Ariadne, and Eames won every time.

"What do you think of Cherry as a name for a girl? Cherry Eames is cute, and fruit names are very in right now," Eames asked Ariadne over lunch. Arthur wanted to gag when she merely giggled and threw a wadded napkin at his head.

"That's awful," Ariadne told him, shaking her head. "I'd never name a child of mine after a piece of fruit. And trust me, after having such an idiosyncratic name growing up, I'd want something a little more conventional for my kids."

"That's so..." Eames gave a dramatic sigh. "Diamond? Star?" He snapped his fingers as if he had just been struck with inspiration. "What about naming her Delilah Amour? There's some French in it, as homage to your new homeland."

Ariadne rolled her eyes and groaned. "With a name like that you're just asking her to grow up to be an exotic dancer."

"This entire line of conversation is making me ill," Arthur said, not able to concentrate on the leads that he was looking into about their potential subject.

"I'll have you know my Mum nearly named my sister Delilah. Went with Aubrey instead, the poor girl." Eames' eyes lit up. "I should ring Mum! She would love to talk to you!" He laughed at her exasperated "Eames!" and pulled out his cell phone. "Or, even better, let's get on a flight. You can meet my illustrious parents and my little sister. She is painfully ordinary, especially in comparison to myself, but I'm certain my Mum would be ecstatic to know that you've brought me to heel at last."

"This is ridiculous. I can't concentrate." Arthur threw his pen down onto the table and stalked out of the room, fuming.

Ariadne jumped to her feet in concern and followed him into the other part of the suite. "Arthur! Arthur, wait. He's just teasing. It doesn't mean anything..."

Arthur whirled around to face her, something like anguish in his gaze before his features smoothed out into his professional mask. "It doesn't seem like a joke, Ariadne. It seems like you're perfectly happy with the situation as it is."

"That's not true," Ariadne said in a gentle tone of voice, reaching out to touch his chest. "He's just doing what he can to be irritating. It doesn't mean anything. He isn't important to me that way." Her fingers brushed gently across his chest, and she took a half step closer to him. "He's not the one that I want."

When Arthur was too stunned to answer, she turned and walked back into the office.

***

Eames didn't let up in the slightest as time went on and Ariadne began building her models from initial sketches. Arthur felt like this was all a cosmic joke. Or a masochistic streak, which was just as likely as a vengeful higher being trying to get even with him. After all, he had catered to Cobb and his murderous shade for over two years without complaint. Still, Arthur prided himself on his ability to be a professional, and he wanted to maintain his reputation as one of the best. It meant that he needed to work with the best forgers, and Eames was it.

He was polite to Ariadne, at least. As much as he might have teasingly referred to her as "Mrs. Eames" on more than one occasion, he was thoughtful and considerate as she entered the office, holding the door open for her or helping to carry her supplies when the packages were too bulky for her to carry easily. He did ask about speaking with her parents to retroactively ask for permission to marry her, but Ariadne brushed that one off.

"It isn't unheard of for those in the field to eventually date or marry," Eames casually mentioned one day during a lunch break. Most of the building was done, he was solidifying his forge for the job and it was only a matter of learning the mazes for the job. "You know of Cobb and Mal, but there are plenty of others."

"Well, I've only seen Cobb after the fact," Ariadne pointed out.

"Yes. And while he was not exactly a shining example of what to do, in that respect he got it right." Eames leaned back in his chair and smiled at the glowering Arthur. "You knew them before it all got shot to hell and back," he began. Arthur's frown actually grew deeper, which didn't dim Eames' smile one bit. "Would you say that Ariadne and I are of a similar mold? Only saner and sexier, of course."

"Eames," Ariadne began in a warning tone of voice as he laughed.

"Merely an observation, my darling wife. Though I could very possibly be biased on the sexy part, I do believe it's a proven fact you are much more sane than the late Mrs. Cobb."

"Was that a compliment?" Ariadne asked, eyebrow raised.

There was a muscle twitching in Arthur's jaw at the mention of Mallorie Cobb, and he held his pen in a white knuckled grip. Arthur was rapidly losing his temper, which hadn't exactly been all that tightly controlled at the start of this conversation at all. Eames took one look at his face and blinked in surprise.

Jumping to his feet, Eames nodded. "You must be tired." He started over to her desk and then moved to rub her shoulders. "Here. This ought to help you relax a bit."

"That's not necessary..."

"Didn't I vow to love, honor and cherish you? Something to that effect, yes?" At her reluctant nod, Eames shrugged and continued the massage. "So this is me cherishing you."

Arthur considered destroying his reputation to put a bullet between Eames' eyes. He could probably work the death in his favor in some circles. "This is ridiculous. Eames, you should be learning the maze right now."

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud..."

"The idea is that we have to be ready to get this done in three weeks. Will you be ready by then?" Arthur reminded him coldly.

Eames continued the slow massage of Ariadne's shoulders as he took in Arthur's stony expression. "I know what needs to be done, Arthur," he said in even tones. His rhythmic motions didn't falter in the least. "I haven't forgotten what it is that we're supposed to be doing. The difference is, I also know when it's important to appreciate everything around me. I don't simply let it all slide by."

Arthur bristled and opened his mouth to speak when Ariadne cleared her throat. "Why don't we go over the maze, Arthur? You're going to be serving as the distraction, so it's important that you know where all my traps are."

Eames promised to start looking into the identities they would need for the job, and he offered to take care of plane tickets and hotel rooms.

Against his better judgment, Arthur let him handle that so he could go into the PASIV dream with Ariadne to go over the maze. He was focused on being near her, on being able to talk to her and look at her without interference or innuendo from Eames. Maybe he would be able to do more than simply hold her hand or try to kiss her. Maybe he could ask her to dinner, could make her realize in no uncertain terms that he wanted Eames out of the picture due to jealousy and his own desire for her, not just a petty competition. Arthur was hesitant to use the word _love,_ but he was pretty damn close.

He really should have known better.

***

Arthur never managed to ask Ariadne out to dinner, and he couldn't tell if she was lingering in the office to suggest something or not. She kept telling him he needed more practice under the PASIV, and he gladly went under to walk the streets with her. They talked about a lot of random things in addition to the job or the maze, sometimes about all the different cities he had been to as part of dream share. Ariadne wanted to travel, to see the great cities and experience the history and architecture for herself. Arthur was putting together an itinerary for her based on the aspects of history and architecture that she really liked.

It figured that Eames would beat him to the punch.

It was bad enough that Eames used the married identities for this upcoming job, booking a bridal suite for himself and Ariadne, with a separate room on the floor below for Arthur. "It's a good cover identity," Eames drawled when Arthur noticed the tickets and hotel rooms. "I would be remiss if we didn't use what resources we have at our disposal. No one would think a couple honeymooning would be involved in industrial espionage."

Eames had a point, the bastard, but Arthur didn't have to like it.

Ariadne was next to Arthur as they waited to pick up their luggage in the airport. Eames called the cab and the three of them squeezed into the back of the taxi. Arthur gallantly offered to help carry Ariadne's luggage before Eames could, but the sight of the bridal suite made him want to choke on his tongue.

The entire suite was beautiful, of course, but full of flowers and piped in classical flute music that was soothing and romantic at the same time. "Dinner is waiting, of course," Eames said with a graceful bow in Ariadne's direction. "And then I have my own present to give you, on the occasion of our marriage."

"Eames," Ariadne began, shaking her head. "It isn't necessary."

"I know that," he told her with a grin, removing an envelope from his suit jacket. "But I want to." He risked a sideways glance at Arthur's livid face. "Someone should spoil you, darling."

Ariadne gasped when she saw the contents of the envelope. Inside was a detailed itinerary of a grand tour of Europe's greatest cities, all expenses paid for two. The tour began two weeks after this current job ended and would last for nearly three months. "Oh, Eames. This is too much, especially for a joke like this..."

Eames gallantly took one of her hands in his and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently and smiling at her sputter of surprise. "It is, of course, a very elaborate thank you for all the excellent work you've done and for playing along so well." He grinned at Ariadne and then turned to Arthur. "One would think someone as bright as you would have realized what was going on by now, hm?"

He walked out of the suite, leaving Ariadne and Arthur alone in the bridal suite together. As much as Eames had joked during the flight that they would have to share a bed as part of their married personae, he very easily left the room.

Ariadne suddenly realized she was also holding the folder containing the room's passkeys. She held both of them. Lifting that folder with one hand as she put down the European tour itinerary with the other, she met Arthur's eyes. "I won't need both of these keys, Arthur."

On impulse, Arthur patted his jacket pocket. The passkey for the single room downstairs was gone, likely pickpocketed by a certain forger that had been going overboard making him jealous for _months._ "Son of a bitch," he murmured, looking down at his empty pocket. "He planned this all along, and I fell for it."

"He's right, though. How did you _not_ figure it out sooner? Even I did." She grinned at him almost impishly, sliding one of the room keys into Arthur's jacket pocket. "I kept thinking you were going to make a move, but you didn't do anything more than steal a few kisses or touches along the way. That made me feel like I was imagining the whole thing."

"I thought... You liked his attention, Ariadne," Arthur told her almost accusingly, seizing her hand desperately. "I thought that was what you wanted."

"It's nice," she said, stepping into his personal space and smiling up at him. "But I told you. He wasn't the one I wanted. It's nice being complimented and appreciated and getting all sorts of lavish gifts. The one I really wanted them from was you. It's always been you."

Arthur kissed her, for once holding nothing back. His arms wound around her tiny frame and he lifted her off of her feet as his tongue slid between her lips. It felt absolutely electric, as if he had been waiting his entire life for this one perfect moment to slide into place. It seemed he wasn't cursed after all. Perhaps there was no divine entity that had it out for him. Maybe he simply had to earn this, to open his eyes and simply _see_ what was right in front of him.

Even as they stumbled toward the bed together, mouths still attached as if they would devour each other whole, Arthur wasn't about to thank Eames for this. That would only encourage the insufferable bastard even more.

He was definitely grateful, though. As they tumbled into bed, Arthur silently offered up a heartfelt thank you to whatever was out there, and vowed to never take this for granted.

The End


End file.
